


The End

by Renea



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Grief, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 05:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18403733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renea/pseuds/Renea
Summary: Just Bucky grieving Steve.





	The End

“Why’d you have to go and do that, Steve?” Bucky dragged in a rough, wet breath. “Huh? You answer me, punk.” He dragged Steve’s heavy shoulders across the table, closer to his own body, as if having him nearer might inspire the life back into his best friend’s body. “We had him...” he began, but he couldn’t finish that sentence. “We could’ve taken him down without...” He stared horrified down at the slack, lifeless face he’d known his whole life, yet seen far to little of to satisfy. It wasn’t right. Where were those ruddy cheeks? The spark in his eyes? Where was his Steve? “Stevie....” he said, so softly, then again, louder. His tears were raining down into Steve’s hair and he found himself running his hands through the damp strands and rocking the both of them back and forth. “I told you, Stevie...I told you not to do anything stupid. You said...you said I was taking...all the...oh god...all the stupid...with me.” The memory choked him like a fist and he couldn’t speak, couldn’t make a noise, just sat there rocking his best friend in his arms, his mouth open in a silent wail. He lost himself for a time like this and when he came back to himself he realized he’d been repeating the words “with me” again and again, like a benediction. “No, no this can’t be it, Stevie.” He leaned over, laying his cheek against the one he’d known a century. How many times had he tended to that cheek after some back alley fight? How many times had he kissed that face, caressed it? Not nearly enough. “The end....fuck. This can’t be the end...” The last words were lost on a gasp, and it felt like every horrible thing that had ever happened to him all rolled up into one. He was falling again, his arm was being ripped off again, his nerves soldered, his brain fried, his body beaten, cut, tortured, and Steve, dead again, not staring back to him in black and white on the cover of the newspaper they’d showed him; no, not this time. This time, Steve was lying stiff on a cold metal table with Bucky folded over him, gentle hands still tugging raggedly through that golden hair and feeling like his entire world had been ripped apart at the seams.


End file.
